


Downworlder

by Eldritch_Exile



Series: Ignis Aurum Probat (Shadowhunter au) [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Shadowhunter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldritch_Exile/pseuds/Eldritch_Exile
Summary: Jason Todd isn't one of the Nephilim. Not anymore. He was the High Warlock of Gotham.orThe Shadowhunter AU no one asked for.





	Downworlder

The Gotham city institute feels different. It isn’t home anymore. It hasn’t been in a while. But, it’s different, Jason thinks, when he finally deigns to answer Dick’s invitation. He doesn’t know if it’s the hallowed ground or his own nostalgia but being in the institute again makes his skin crawl in ways that makes him want to lash out at someone or something. 

He doesn’t. The accords are there for a reason. He doesn’t want to give any of them a reason to decide he’s a threat that needs to be contained. 

He should be happy they’re not holding this meeting in the sanctuary like before. That had felt too much like an interrogation, an accusation. 

The replacement is there when he comes in, bent over a map of the city. He doesn’t react to Jason’s arrival, just gives him a brief glance before he goes back to studying the map of Gotham. Jason doesn’t know why he bothers. Knowing Tim, he should know every inch of the city already. 

“So what am I doing here?” Jason asks, looking over the various things they have scattered, pieces of information that doesn’t tell him much of anything else. “Did Dick tell you?” 

“We need your help,” Tim says and gestures at the map in front of him. “It’s an important case. You should have heard of it already. Downworlders dying seems like something you’d watch out for.” 

Jason frowns. “I’ve heard about it,” he admits. “It wasn’t in my territory. I thought the clans were having another war with each other.” 

Tim shakes his head and crosses his arms. His mouth is in a thin line and he bites down on his lips as he thinks. The black of the runes stand out on his pale skin. He shakes his head. “It’s not. This is a systematic killing. Someone’s hunting them down.” 

Jason laughs. “You mean Shadowhunters?” 

Tim scowls. “That would be against the accords.” 

“Not if the Shadowhunters claim the Downworlders broke the stupid accords first,” Jason snaps. “What can we do, right? If it’s the word of one of yours against one of mine?” 

Tim flinches and Jason feels a moment of satisfaction before he feels guilty about it. Fine, so maybe the replacement wasn’t one of those Nephilim who tried to get Downworlders in trouble with their accords, it doesn’t mean Jason doesn’t have the right to feel upset about the ones who do. 

“I didn’t call you here to fight against us, Jason,” Dick says as he enters the room. Damian follows close behind and both of them are armed. “I thought you’d like to fight with us?” 

He sounds uncertain and Jason thinks of all the time he’s spent antagonizing Gotham’s Shadowhunters and thinks that perhaps the uncertainty is not uncalled for. He shrugs casually, leaning back on one of the tables around the room. “Should you really be asking the help of a Downworlder? I thought Shadowhunters didn’t do that sort of thing? What would Bruce say?” 

“Bruce isn’t here right now,” Dick says with a smile. “And he can’t just tell me what to do.” 

“Really? I thought good Shadowhunters have to obey the Head of their Institute,” Jason smirks. “Doesn’t Bruce still hold that position?” 

“Don’t be an idiot, Todd. No ones needs you to state the obvious,” Damian says, scowling. 

“I’m acting as Head while he’s gone,” Dick explains. “Besides, it’s not the first time we’ve worked with a warlock.” 

Jason crosses his arms and uncrosses them. He lets them fall to his side. His magic feels like live wire under his skin and his eyes traces the dark marks of the runes on theirs. He wonders what it would have been like if he had taken the marks when it was offered. He wonders if it would have worked on him then. 

“Fine,” he concedes. “Tell me everything.” 

 

\-----

 

When Jason lived on the streets, he found himself wishing that he was a mundane. It would have been easier to be able to ignore the Shadow World, to not have to worry about fairies playing pranks on him or the vampires taking him to feed. It would have been easier to not have to worry about demons, the real ones and not the ones the mundanes sometimes resembled. Especially in their city. 

In Gotham, everyone was a kind of demon. Jason remembered someone saying it in the Shadow Market as he looked through the place, trying to find something he could use for protection. In the Shadow Market, there were so many other ways to pay for things than money. 

It is in Gotham’s Shadow Market that he first sees Bruce Wayne. 

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to steal from a Shadowhunter. Not after all the rumors he’s heard about them. 

But, it was hard to resist the temptation.

"Are you aware that you just stole from a Shadowhunter?" Bruce asks him when he catches him. 

Jason grins like he isn't bothered by the intimidating man, that he isn't replaying the many rumors he's heard of what Shadowhunters do to those who offend them and their laws. "This is the Shadow Market and you enter through a place called Crime Alley. If you ask me, you should have known better." 

Bruce looked at him then like he was sizing him up and Jason had tensed for a fight, felt ready to run and disappear into a crowd. Maybe it would have been better if he had. If he had ran away the first time he met that Shadowhunter. 

The first time he’s brought to the Institute, he finds it daunting. It was mostly empty when he arrived. Dick had left for his travel year, going to different institutes to learn more. Jason found out that there was more to that when the older boy returned only to have an explosive argument with Bruce. 

He almost ran away then. Shadowhunters were trouble, everyone said it. He stayed. He didn’t run. But, sometimes, he wonders if he should have. 

 

\-----

 

His spells show him nothing strange had killed the downworlders. It doesn’t tell them much but it’s a start, he guesses, as he pulls up the sheets over the bodies they had retrieved. The factions in Gotham city were ever changing and ever chaotic. It really could have just been conflict between those factions as he had suggested. 

Tim thinks otherwise and Jason has long learned to trust the young man’s instincts, at least when it comes to this. 

“Please tell me you have other leads,” Jason says when Tim hands him a cup of coffee once they’ve gone back to the Institute’s kitchen. “Besides the bodies.” 

“I think you had a point,” Tim says. “About the different groups having a war.” 

“I thought that wasn’t the case. Come on, Tim, make up your mind,” Jason says, taking a sip of his drink. 

“It’s not,” Tim glares at him but there is not much anger in that expression. “I mean that’s someone is setting it up so that there would be. Not just among the different downworlders. The last kill was, well, it looked like a Shadowhunter did it.” 

“And we all know what B thinks about killing,” Jason says. He glares at the drink in his hand before settling it on the counter. He looks around the kitchen, glancing at the familiar and unfamiliar things around it. He misses Alfred. But, apparently, Alfred had to go with Bruce to Idris. “What if it’s a visiting Shadowhunter?” 

“They would have gone to the Institute first,” Tim argues. Jason opens his mouth to argue back but Tim raises a hand. “I know you think they could just operate outside of the Institute but that’s against Clave mandate. You know that. You studied under Bruce and Alfred too.” 

Jason snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says, shaking his head. “But, like Shadowhunters always follow Clave rules.” He scoffs. “Besides, what do people have to gain from starting a war in the city?” 

“A lot of things,” Tim shrugs. He finishes his own drink and places his mug beside Jason’s. “We just don’t know which one they’re after.” 

“Well, that’s just great, isn’t it?” 

 

\-----

 

He died. He died going after a demon, trying to piece the truth about himself. Why he was different. What his place was in all this, in the Shadow World. In the end, it didn’t matter. In the end, he still died before Bruce came to rescue him. 

He came back but it wasn’t the same. He was no longer the same. 

“How?” Bruce asks when they meet once again. His mentor--his father?--looks older and there are more of the white faded marks of old runes on his skin just as there are more scars. 

Jason shrugs. “I’m not sure either,” he answers. After a while, he adds, “Magic. I think. Maybe.” He covers the back of his right hand with another, the place where he would have gotten his first rune if he had allowed Bruce to turn him into a Shadowhunter. If he had taken the runes before it was too late. “I’m not human anymore, Bruce.” 

“I know, Jason.” 

He blows at the streaks of white hair that falls over his eyes, his warlock’s mark and meets Bruce’s eyes with his own. He wonders if the man could see it, the green of his eyes that are brighter, much too bright, than normal. His marks as a warlock is not the same as their runes but it is easy to hide through layers upon layers of spells and glamour. 

“Did you kill him? The trickster demon?” 

“Yes,” Bruce says. For a while, there was silence before the Shadowhunter spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Jason says, grimacing at the thought of metal breaking through skin and bones. He shudders and rubs his hands over his arms. “Wasn’t your fault. I forgive you.” 

Bruce comes closer and Jason fights the urge to run. He didn’t plan to come back to Gotham the way he was. Talia had warned him against but he still came back, unable to resist the call of home. When the Shadowhunter wraps his arms around him, Jason tenses, his breath hitching before he finally allows himself to relax in the embrace of his mentor, his father. 

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers. “I’m a downworlder, Bruce.” 

“It doesn’t matter, Jay,” the man says and Jason believes him. “We’ll figure it out.” 

 

\-----

 

“How come you never found yourself a parabatai, Dickie?” Jason asks while the two of them are on patrol. Damian is apparently spending time with a friend. Jason remembers someone saying that the little demon might actually find a parabatai for himself. Good for him. Still, it begs the question for the golden boy who everyone liked, didn’t it? 

Dick shrugs as he draws his stele over his skin, painting it, burning it black with an iratze rune for the scratches from their earlier run in with a demon. “It just didn’t happen.” 

“Really? No one from San Francisco? Barbie? Wait, no, that can’t work. Parabatais aren’t supposed to fall in love with each other, right?” 

“Barbara and I aren’t together,” Dick says. 

“Not anymore,” Jason snorts. “But you were, once. Is that it? Are you scared you’ll fall for your parabatai?” 

Dick chuckles and shakes his head. “What brought this on?” 

“Was just thinking about it,” Jason says. “I was curious. Didn’t expect the demon brat of all people to have a parabatai or, well, I guess the possibility of one.” 

Dick grins at him. “Well, little wing, I think if things had gone differently, the two of us would be parabatai now.” 

“Yeah, right,” Jason flicks his hand and sends Dick stumbling back with a quick spell. “Keep on dreaming, Dick.” 

 

\-----

 

“So what was the fight with Bruce about last time?” 

“What?” Jason looks up from the tracking spell he was doing for his replacement. He should stop calling him that. But, at this point, it had become a habit. He and Tim were similar, in some ways. Children with the sight that found a place in the Institute. 

“You said Bruce wouldn’t be happy you’d be working with us?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You implied it,” Tim waves his hand in dismissal. “So?” 

“So? You going to let me work on the spell you wanted, replacement? Or are we just gonna have this moment?” 

Tim smirks. “I’m sure you can multitask, Jason. I’m sure the High Warlock of Gotham is able to talk while working his spells.” 

“It goes to show you know nothing of spells,” Jason shoots the other a look. He laughs at the exasperated expression on his face. “Come on, Tim, what if the spell needed some chanting or so?” 

“Does it?” 

“Nope,” Jason grins. “But it could have.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Good. Mission accomplished. Here’s the location of the vampire you’re looking for. I’m sure you can find your way out of my apartment.” 

 

\-----

 

Sometimes, Jason thinks about the fact that he’ll outlive his family. Warlocks live longer than mortals and Shadowhunters, for all that they have the blood of angels, are still mortals. During those times, he finds himself working on spells and wards and whatever else he could get his hands. 

Some of those times finds him in the front door of the Institute, messing with its occupants to chase away the thoughts that he’d rather bury. 

On some nights, he follows them on their patrols or takes care of the downworlder conflicts that he could. There should be some perks to being a warlock, to having demon blood in your veins. 

Once upon a time, he died. But, the demon blood in his veins refused to make it permanent and now, what he is is made clear in his hair and eyes and he cannot escape it. He embraces it instead. There is beauty in the power you could get as a warlock, in magic. So, he makes wards and protection spells and makes sure the Institute is protected, that the others are protected. 

Death took him away from them once. He won’t allow it to take them from him, not a second earlier than fate wills it to be. Never, if he could help it. 

But, that is just asking for the impossible. 

 

\-----

 

“It’s a demon, a great demon,” Tim explains as he shows them the pages from the books in the library. Dick looks closer and turns pages to examine it further. Damian is at his side, narrowing his eyes at Tim. “It’s probably doing it to feed on the chaos and murder.” 

“A chaos demon, huh?” Jason scowls. “Because I have such a great history with those.” 

Dick gives him a worried look before turning back on the open books on the table. “Alright, we need a plan.” 

“Todd should act as bait,” Damian declares, looking at him and sizing him up. “The demon is targeting downworlders after all.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only downworlder in this room,” Jason says. 

Damian straightens his posture and tilts his chin up. “I am a Shadowhunter.” 

“Your mother definitely isn’t though.” 

“Nephilim blood is stronger.” Damian says, glaring at him. “I am,” the boy hesitates before continuing, “I am no longer my mother’s son.” 

“Stop it,” Dick says and his eyes flick from one brother to another. “Both of you. No one’s going to be the bait. This is a greater demon. It would be risky.” 

“Nah, Dickiebird,” Jason grins at his older brother. “The kid’s right. Besides, I’m the one who’s least likely to die of everyone here. I’ll do it.” 

 

\-----

 

When Jason first came back from the dead, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He was no longer a mundane, no, that wasn’t quite right. He hadn’t really been a mundane in a while, even years before his death. He was no longer human. That was what it was. 

A warlock. Half human and half demon. In his case, apparently, half nephilim, and half demon. One way or another, he was a downworlder. 

Maybe that was why when he got back to Gotham, he decided to clean up their downworld. It was an ongoing process. It was a dangerous process. Werewolves, vampires, fairies, and warlocks all had their own agendas. 

It was a job for a Shadowhunter. Bruce definitely didn’t want him to do it. 

He was no longer a shadowhunter or truly nephilim but he was once a mundane and he was now a downworlder. He owed it to all of them to try. It didn’t matter what Bruce said. Bruce may be the Head of Gotham’s Institute but Jason was no longer a Shadowhunter. He didn’t have to follow. Not if he didn’t want to. 

He was the High Warlock of Gotham, after all. 

 

\-----

 

In reality, he and Damian are probably the most similar. Nephilim blood mixed with something else, something the Clave would definitely not approve of. Jason is reminded of this every time someone from the faerie courts would leave a message to him for their little prince. 

Damian may have chosen his father’s world but his mother was definitely still watching over him, over them. For better or for worse. 

“Here, catch,” Jason says as a greeting when he finds the boy in one of the Institute’s training rooms. The acorn Jason throws is caught in mid-air and the boy frown at it. Jason cuts him off before he could say anything else. “It’s for you. From the courts.” 

“I could tell,” Damian scowls at him. “You should tell my mother to stop sending me these.” 

“Oh, I have,” Jason laughs and shakes his head. He leans on the doorframe, watching Bruce’s son. The boy may have said that but Jason sees him pocketing the acorn that, no doubt, contained Talia’s message to him. “She doesn’t listen.” 

“Of course,” Damian nods. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightens before he returns it to his sheath. “Do you need anything else, Todd?” 

“Nah,” he says. “Good form, kid. See you later.” 

“Todd,” Damian says before he could leave the room and portal out of there. “You have my thanks. I shall see you later for the hunt.” 

Jason smiles at the kid before he leaves. He doesn’t really tell Talia to stop leaving the messages in his apartment. He never has. Sometimes, he thinks he and Damian are the most similar of the brothers, torn between their two bloodlines. Sometimes, he’d like to make sure Damian didn’t have to choose. 

 

\-----

 

The slight burn of demon’s ichor on his skin is familiar. He thinks he’s bleeding and he may have a concussion. He can hear Damian shouting something from somewhere to his left and he’s lost sight of Tim. He thinks of metal and smoke and fire. He hates it. 

Dick wields two seraph blades and Jason sees both of it pierce the demon before all goes black.  

 

\-----

 

Damian is by his bedside when he wakes. The kid doesn’t realize it, eyes focused on the book in his hand and the dog he’s petting. Jason thinks of Talia being there when he first woke from death. It is a strange and fitting parallel, mother and son. 

“Gotta say, didn’t expect it would be you here when I woke up,” Jason croaks out. Damian frowns at him but the kid still hands him the glass of water from the bedside table. Jason takes a sip and smirks at the kid. “Were you worried?” 

“Don’t be absurd,” Damian says, glaring at him. “It was my plan that went wrong. It was only fitting that I take responsibility.” 

“Is it?” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jason shakes his head and places the glass back on the nightstand. “We were just outmatched. It happens.” 

“Nevertheless, it did happen. I am Shadowhunter. We protect the Shadow World. It should not have happened.” Damian’s hands absently runs through his dog’s fur and he is frowning at the sheets of the bed. Jason opens his mouth to assure him, to say something but the words don’t come and the boy is already rising from his seat. “I shall get Richard. I promised him I would.” 

Jason lets his head fall back on the pillows and watches, stares at the familiar ceiling of the institute. At least, he didn’t die this time. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> It's late at night and I so want to get back into writing and I needed to get this out of my head. I just really needed to write it. Somehow. I'm new to this fandom and it's my first time writing for it so feedback is greatly appreciated. I'm not sure if I did it any of this right. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
